hope dies last

blood crying eyes
can see something further
what gives the reason
for weak breath of life
still go in and out

scars left on arms
mixes with ghosts from the past
only pain can live in consciousness
just hope for death is left

illusion of body is so real
only hope still burns in heart
it does not live longer
it just dies longer

don't scream!

curse brought from the depths of childhood
as harsh caress of november's wind
pushes me to shot myself off
hat over the face, closed hood

conquered - threatened by the fears of the freedom
cold of winter nights and hell's flames
because of the past, just to live for the future
deny today, forget, don't scream!

am i doomed to reproduction?
am i doomed to follow other's steps?

the same deadlocks, the same holes in the ground
filled with corpses as after the plague

from early childhood we learn to control our selves, we learn to create our needs according to offered possibilities, we learn to choose only possible option - become someone. and there is no way out of it...while we speak this language of subjection

the last day of bourgeois a.k.a. into

dictatorship of proletariat
violence towards everything
all subjugated; to no one
not even speaking for themselves
onward! rip up the image
of hatred power

dictatorship of proletariat
changes written in blood
revolutionary situation
petrified in order

though we have realized one thing
peaceful life couldn't be afforded

eat pineapples
chew the ptarmigans
your last day
is coming, bourgeois

almost all revolutions turn in to totalitarian system. it is like that not because someone betrays it or sells out, it is because revolutions and revolutionaries strives for power, for new system.. even the most utopian system will be the prison for us! *last verse stolen from mayakovskiy

ciudad sin sueño

no es sueño la vida! alerta! alerta! alerta!
nos caemos por las escarelas para comer la tierra hummeda
o subimos al filo de la nieve con el coro de las dalias muertas.
pero no hay olvido, ni sueño:
carne viva. los besos atan las bocas
en una maraña de venas recientes
y al que le duele su dolor le dolera sin descanso
y al que teme la muerte la llevara sobre sus hombros.

..extracted from lorka..


wrapped in prison of daily life
tied up arms and legs
float down the stream
between offices, classrooms and prison cells

intoxication from sameness
searching for peacefulness and sense
forget and betray
your dreams, passions and joys

in company with eremites
foreign among outsiders
normal among healthy
impassioned outside the prison walls

because nothing have been achieved without fight
because without fight you can achieve something

sometimes refuse to fight is the biggest battle which we have to win with ourselves. the fiercest fascist lives in our own heads and we are ready to sacrifice a lot of things to please him. we rather can take a knife and attack others, than turn to inner battle.


if now there is a winter
does it mean that spring will come?
if now there is war
does it mean that peace could come?

if everything is so unreal
does it mean that there is something real?

as long as there are questions
exist the worlds, which you
are creating

it is you, who is creating everything
it is you, who is living everything
stop! stop to create!
stop! everything has an end...

often we strongly believe in consecution, in some (universal) order and that is the reason why we couldn't escape reproduction of our selves and the world around us. as long as we know, that there is 2 following 1 and 3 and 4 afterwards and so on, we are as dogs trying to catch their own tail. the best results we could get that way is to bait our own arse...


hey mother
today i will destroy the power
there will be no you tomorrow
are you ready for that

hey father
your son is shouting
i'm fed up of reproducing you
are you ready to get along without me

family - power's theater stage
family - workshop of power's basics
who gains from distribution of roles
i know just one thing - not the actors

police, government, capitalism
have their roots in family order

the black sun a.k.a. pochoronkė

i'm standing on the edge of abyss of nonexistence
black dawn greets me in face
strength to outstep that threshold
i have brought in my heart

in my human-beast eyes
shinning of the black sun glows
just one more step, spread the wings
and jump into whirlpool of chaos

i greet you land
where life goes different path
even on stones trees grow here
on new basics it builds the world

measa a.k.a. oppressed and denied

oppressed and denied
is just a way to plant
seed of control
inside your will
there will be no light
at the end of the path
just a pair of crutches
oppressed and denied

oppress and deny our sexuality is the main thing we have to learn. the sooner, the better. when we achieve that all other manipulations with our bodies and minds will make no problems..